Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Shark Weak

She kissed my leg with
more teeth than lipstick.

And then there wasn't a
leg anymore. The gap

between sand and kneecap left
just enough space to see more
than Orion's belt, loose around
the waist. Gluttonous passions
wrapped around ankles that
were just bright dots that would
have taken days to swim to.

She took off before I had a
chance, swam away, curved
triangle, grey and hanging
just above the water, gliding
off towards the black wallpaper
dotted with incandescent

I see the sea now, a blanket
laid over an ailing grandfather

with so many fickle knees
and I imagine her swimming

inside the blanket, into last night
with shoelaces tangled around intestines.

When she took a kick
to the stomach too literally
and I ended up with a leg
that wasn't.

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